


sticks crossed

by okamiwind



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Concussions, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:56:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24631927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okamiwind/pseuds/okamiwind
Summary: sehun steps up for junmyeon. junmyeon feels like he has to step up for sehun in return.
Relationships: Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Oh Sehun
Comments: 28
Kudos: 197





	sticks crossed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sleepy_orange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepy_orange/gifts).



On the face-off, the guy across from him checks him across the hands, and it isn’t like he’s not used to stuff like that. Sly little remarks, comments on his size and his fragility… these things, he could abide. 

His hands, though? He made his money with his hands. His hands were everything. He wouldn’t be in the league if he didn’t have his hands. 

Junmyeon looks at the ref, expecting he’s gonna throw the guy out, but the ref looks the other way. Of course. It’s been that kind of night. 

He’ll have to fight his own battles, he supposes. 

“Hey.” He looks behind him and to the left, and Chanyeol is waving at him as he shouts. “Don’t take that shit!” 

Junmyeon rolls his eyes. Both teams have been at each other’s throats all night. He’s captain. It’s his job to keep a lid on things. It’s his job to make sure tempers don’t get the best of him and result in unnecessary penalties. Jongdae’s already gone to the box, four for slashing, and he doesn’t want anymore of that, not when they’re fucking _tied_ and two points are on the line. 

Playoffs are coming up, he reminds himself. _You need every point you can get._

He refocuses. 

He can feel Sehun’s eyes on the back of his neck.

He breathes in, and on the exhale, the puck drops to the dot. Junmyeon jumps into action, sweeping to the side, and he wins it fucking _clean_. Jongin gets it on the tape, and they are streaking off towards the offensive zone. Junmyeon catches up to him quickly, always just a _little_ bit faster than the rest because he’s smaller, so as soon as Jongin carries over the blue line, Junmyeon is right behind him, slamming his stick on the ice as he calls for it. 

Jongin is good, great at what he does. Junmyeon is squaring up to the goalie, and Jongin saucers the puck over, hits him in stride, and Junmyeon swerves across the face of the net, toe dragging around the defender. He shoots, misses by a fucking nose. He chews on his mouth guard as he chases the rebound off the wall, Jongin crashing along the boards. 

He had the goalie beat. Would have been a pretty goal. 

Jongin manages to scoop the puck off the wall even as he’s being pinned against them, and he chucks it over to Junmyeon. He’s got a lane back to the point, but it’s closing fast, so he dishes it back to the blue line. To Sehun. 

He stops it, wheels back and unleashes a ferocious slap shot, and Junmyeon’s heart stops as he waits. 

The goalie tips it with his glove, and the puck stays out. 

_Fuck._

He has no time to react, a mad scramble along the boards. He rushes in to help. 

Their other d-man gives chase, puts Junmyeon up against the boards harder than is strictly necessary. Junmyeon bites his guard as the guy knees him. He knew they were dirty, but he didn’t think it would be like this. 

“Get the fuck off me,” he says. 

“Pussy,” the guy spits, and he hits Junmyeon across the small of his back, knocking the wind out of him. 

He chokes on his air, trying to get his breath back before something bad happens, and luckily, the puck moves just in time. The guy lets off, and sweat drips into his eyes as he skates slowly back to the bench for a change. He all but collapses to the bench, sucking wind as Chanyeol shoots Gatorade into his mouth at his right. 

“Gonna be a long night,” Chanyeol says, and he pats Junmyeon on the back. “A _long_ night.”  
  


☓

Chanyeol’s words are prophetic. He’s never played in a more physically or mentally exhausting game. They stay tied all throughout, a vicious push and pull, and it is coming down to the wire. He doesn’t want to drag this to fucking overtime. Junmyeon doesn’t want them to get a point, and he certainly doesn’t want to play anymore. It’s not fun, hasn’t been fun for a while.

He’s taking a face-off, just a few minutes left on the clock, and he wins it cleanly again. He’s in the guy’s head. 

Just twenty seconds later, Jongin puts the puck away on a breakaway, celebrating against the glass as relief seeps into Junmyeon’s skin. It loosens up after that goal, gives them all a little leeway. _Don’t let off the gas, but don’t tighten up too much._

They take another face-off with just a minute left. And he wins that too. 

He smiles as he starts to skate away. 

That’s when he hears it. 

“Faggot.” 

It’s not the first time he’s been called that, but for some reason, it matters then. Maybe it’s because of the game, maybe it’s just a bad night, but he stops, staring at the guy across from him, and then… his stick falls to the ice. 

So do his gloves. 

_Don’t do this_ , he tells himself. _It’s exactly what he wants. You’re winning. You’re winning, and he’s losing._

“Yeah?” the guy says, and he throws his stick to the ground too, shaking his gloves off. “Got something to say, pussy?” 

Junmyeon has no fucking idea what he’s doing, but he’s got adrenaline coursing through him like hot fire. He skates up, ready to throw as many punches as he can. He knows how this will end, but he doesn’t care. Needs… needs to do _something_. 

The guy grabs Junmyeon by the collar of his sweater, and Junmyeon rears back, poised to swing.

Streaking in from the side, Sehun manages to get between him and the other center. Sehun is tall and strong, like a wall between them. Junmyeon breathes out shakily. 

“Gotta have him fight your battles for you?” the center asks, peeking around Sehun’s body at Junmyeon, glaring at him. “Too much of a fucking pussy?” 

“Sehun, don’t,” Junmyeon says, and he puts his hand on Sehun’s shoulder pad, tries to drag him back like he didn’t escalate this to the level that they’re at now. 

“I got this,” Sehun says, and that’s the last thing he says before he shakes his gloves to the ground. 

Sehun takes the guy by the collar, and before Junmyeon can skate back any faster, they are throwing punches. Junmyeon chews on his mouth guard as he watches Sehun hold his own. He’s never been a _fighter_ , but there he is, _fighting_. He swings, hard hands and a hard look across his face, and Junmyeon doesn’t know how this happened, only knows that it’s _his_ fault. 

And then, Junmyeon’s worst nightmare comes true. 

Sehun goes down, a spray of blood red across white as his face hits the ice, and Junmyeon pretty much blacks out after that.  
  


☓

The bench clears. Everyone fights.

The game goes down as a fucking bloodbath, nearly everyone fucking ejected in the last five minutes. Hell, he thinks even _Yixing_ got in there, and Yixing calls himself the only pacifist goaltender in the history of the sport. 

“Hey,” Chanyeol says, his newly missing tooth in his hand, “at least we got the points.” 

“Why are you holding that?” Junmyeon asks, disgusted. 

“I’m giving it to Jongin,” Chanyeol says, and he gestures to where Jongin is stripping gear, throwing it into the basket in the center of the room. “If he wants it, of course.” 

“Bro,” Jongin says, charmed. “Really?” 

“Bro, of course,” Chanyeol says. “Friends forever.” 

Jongin pulls Chanyeol into a topless hug, and certainly not for the first time, Junmyeon comes face to face with the blatant homo-eroticism of professional sports. 

Junmyeon strips quickly, equipment in the basket. They exchange the ceremonial hat, and Baekhyun gives an excitable speech. Junmyeon can’t focus, can’t think of anything besides Sehun. He’s gotta go see him. He’s gotta… he’s gotta see what’s going on. 

He showers first, alone, efficiently, everyone else too caught up in the electricity of the win. He hasn’t thought about that one night, not in a long time, but whenever he’s here alone, he thinks back to that moment. He and Sehun, after that sickening playoff defeat. His mind wanders as he rinses himself clean. 

It seems so long ago, so far away that it was like a dream. A dream that he convinced himself was true. He can still remember his back against the tile. Sehun’s body wet against his own. His mouth on Junmyeon’s. He remembers the way Sehun walked away like that was all it would ever be. Just a kiss. A goodbye kiss. 

_Goodbye, playoffs. Goodbye, Junmyeon. See you after the summer._

He exits the showers just as everyone else is entering. He dresses, sits in his locker, and he waits for everyone to leave. He smiles at them, tells them they did well. He’s the captain. That’s his job. 

He goes to the medical room after he thinks everyone is gone, but Jongin comes out of nowhere, stops him short. 

“Hey,” Jongin says, “you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yeah, just gonna go… check on the kid,” Junmyeon smiles. “Thanks, uh, thanks for fighting. I know you don’t like it.” 

Jongin shrugs. “No one _likes_ fighting.” 

He doesn’t say anything else, just adjusting the strap on his bag as he leaves Junmyeon to his task. 

He looks in the window as they work. Sehun is on the bench, still in most of his gear from the waist down, but he is totally naked from there up. Sweat is shining on his skin, and it looks like some blood has been wiped away from his mouth. 

They hold up the REFLEX tester. He knows what REFLEX means. What they’re testing for. The doctor frowns over the results. 

Fear lances through him. That’s not good. That’s not good at all. 

Junmyeon has only had a concussion once and that was when he was younger, barely seventeen, but he remembers the way it felt. Like he was sinking to the bottom of the pool, no way to push himself up to the surface. He got sick immediately after, stomach churning with worry, confusion. 

Sehun needs two stitches in his lip, and if he wasn’t already beat to hell, Junmyeon would kick his fucking ass. He watches with rapt attention as the team doctor writes him a prescription, patting him gingerly on the back. Junmyeon scuttles backwards, giving him space. 

He exits the room, brow crumpling as he sees Junmyeon against the wall. 

“Why’d you wait?” Sehun asks, syllables slurred as his mouth goes lazy with numbness. 

“I’m gonna take you home,” Junmyeon says. 

“I can get a car,” Sehun says, and Junmyeon’s eyes move down Sehun’s body. 

“I got you.” 

“Okay,” Sehun says. “I’m tired.” 

“I know, buddy,” Junmyeon says. “I know.” 

He guides Sehun out to the lockers, and he helps him strip himself of his gear. He doesn't bother to shower, throwing on a pair of sweats. Junmyeon balls up Sehun’s suit, tossing it lazily in his gear bag. There are more important things. 

Sehun smells like wet dog and body odor as Junmyeon leads him to the parking lot, but he tosses Sehun’s bag in his trunk all the same, opening the door for him before watching as he plunks down into the leather. 

“I’m not incapable of opening a door,” Sehun says softly, all the edges of him velvety smooth as he buckles himself in. 

“I know, I know,” Junmyeon says. “Tough day for you.” 

“I got laid the fuck out,” Sehun laughs, and the stitches on his lip pull. He winces. “Ow.” 

“Yeah, no smiling for you.” Junmyeon swings the door shut, and he goes to the other side. He slips into the car, puts it in reverse. “You feeling okay?” 

“I feel like absolute dog shit to be completely, one hundred percent honest with you,” Sehun says. 

Junmyeon’s heart twists. “I’m sorry.” 

Sehun closes his eyes as they back up. “Why are you sorry?” 

“This is because of me. You’re—”

“Nope,” Sehun says, lightning fast. “No.” 

“But—” 

“No,” Sehun says. “Now, uh, I have to get a pain medication.” 

“They give you something good?” Junmyeon asks. 

“Tylenol with codeine,” Sehun says, and he wiggles his fingers back and forth like _righteous_. 

“Where’s your pharmacy?” 

“The CVS on Chestnut,” Sehun says. 

“‘Kay,” Junmyeon says, and he pulls out without another word. “Keep your eyes closed, okay?” 

“Lights are very bad and no fun,” Sehun says, and Junmyeon turns the music down just as Sehun moans softly. “I’m sorry.” 

“Why are _you_ sorry?” 

“I shouldn’t have fought him,” Sehun says. “I should have, like, used those mindfulness tricks you do.” 

“He was an asshole,” Junmyeon says. “He deserved it.” 

He drives in quiet, double parking on the street. It is busy, but—

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Sehun says, and he goes to unbuckle himself from the seat, but Junmyeon covers his hand. “What?” 

“I’ll run in. You sit here.” 

“What if someone comes and tries to fine me?” 

“Sweet talk ‘em,” Junmyeon says. “Be back in a second, okay?” 

He runs into the store, and he runs like a fucking hurricane, grabbing water bottles, Gatorade in Sehun’s favorite flavor (red), and a few bags of random snacks. He throws them into his basket, hurries back to the wall where the pharmacy is, and the girl asks for his name. He gives them Sehun’s, and when they ask for his date of birth, he gives them that information too. 

The girl looks at him with a wry smile like maybe she is familiar with him, with Sehun, with what they do, but she doesn’t ask any questions. She rings up his stuff quickly, and he slips his card into the reader, giving her a little wave and a _thank you_ when all is said and done. 

By the time he gets back to the car with three bags of supplies plus a controlled substance, Sehun has his head against the rest, eyes closed. 

“Hey,” Junmyeon says. “Sorry that took so long.” 

“Felt like two seconds,” Sehun says. “Did they give you any trouble?” 

“Nah,” Junmyeon says, and he looks behind him before pulling out into the thrum of traffic. “I think the girl was a fan.” 

“Who isn’t?” Sehun says haughtily, but when Junmyeon looks over at him, he’s got a hand against his head. “Agh.” 

“Keep quiet and still,” Junmyeon advises. 

“Concussions are no fun.” 

“No, they aren’t.”

“Next time,” Sehun says sleepily, “tell me not to fight the big man.” 

“I believe I did.” 

“Well, next time too,” Sehun says, and he smiles again, another little split of pain to follow. “Stop.” 

“Stop what?” 

“Making me laugh.” 

“I didn’t say anything,” Junmyeon says, and he follows that old familiar way to Sehun’s building. 

“You’re right,” Sehun says. “I got soup upstairs.” 

“W-What?” 

“Soup,” Sehun says, and he pokes his temple. “Soup for brains.” 

“You need rest, I think,” Junmyeon says. 

“Yeah,” Sehun sighs. “I think so.” 

He falls silent, and Junmyeon respects that, strangely alert, strangely _not_ tired. It was one of the most physically demanding games he’s ever played, and he feels like he could run a marathon. 

He pulls into the parking garage, and he grabs the CVS bags. Sehun pushes himself out of his seat, stretching mightily as he stands, and Junmyeon pops the trunk. He hesitates over whether or not to grab Sehun’s bag before slinging it over his shoulder and closing the trunk. 

Sehun stares at him, a little smirk on his face. 

“You’re so nice.” 

Junmyeon shrugs, trying to will the flood of heat away from his face. 

“It’s nothing,” he says, and he nods towards the elevator. “Ready?” 

“Yeah,” Sehun says, and he grabs his keys from his pocket, leading the way. “Sorry, my place is kind of a mess.” 

They stand in the elevator together, and Junmyeon resists the urge to close the distance between them, tighten up the gap. He doesn’t, of course, he’s not insane, but Sehun does bump his shoulder into Junmyeon’s. 

“Good game, though, huh?” Junmyeon looks at him, and Sehun is trying to smile. “What?” 

“It’s not funny,” Junmyeon says. “You could have gotten… something worse could have happened.” 

“Coulda lost a tooth,” Sehun says. “And then what would have happened to me? God.” He touches his face. “Imagine.” 

“You’d still be a pretty boy,” Junmyeon smiles. 

“You’re one to talk.” 

Junmyeon looks over at him, and the light in the elevator is strangely warm, strangely _romantic_. 

The doors ding open, and they are jarred by the sound, jarred into movement. 

The bags swing in Junmyeon’s hand as they walk across the hall, Sehun’s sneakers quiet, Junmyeon’s dress shoes loud. Sehun unlocks his door, lets Junmyeon step inside behind him, and they toe off their shoes on the mat. 

It’s not as dirty as Sehun led him to believe, and he sets the bags down on the dining room table. Sehun pads through the apartment silently, and Junmyeon unloads his purchases. He keeps the snacks on the counter, the drinks in the fridge, and he tears open the prescription bag, making sure to read the label diligently. 

“I’m gonna shower,” Sehun calls. 

“Do—Okay,” Junmyeon calls back. 

And then suddenly, he is torn between his desire to stay and his knowledge that it would be profoundly strange for him to. Sure, Sehun lives alone, and sure, they are best friends, but… but would it be too gay for him to wait? Would it be suspicious? 

More than that, though… would Sehun care? 

Junmyeon sits on Sehun’s couch, and he turns on the television. Predictably, it is tuned to the NHL Network, and God, Junmyeon has never shut anything off faster. Clips from the fight are playing on loop, and he doesn’t need those images in his head any longer. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to fall asleep tonight. He’s thankful for the home stand. 

He stands, the nervous energy bristling through him, and he looks around for something to do. There are throw pillows thrown on the floor, so Junmyeon stands, picks them up, fluffs them a few times, and puts them back on the couch. There are a couple empty beer bottles on the table, so Junmyeon grabs them, the glass clinking together musically, and he puts them in the recycling. 

It only takes a few minutes, but Junmyeon is busy wiping off Sehun’s granite countertop when he hears the bedroom door swing back open. He wanders over, and he is greeted with the sight of Sehun fresh from the shower, standing in his doorway. 

“Hey,” Sehun says, towel wrapped around his waist, a few stray water droplets racing across his skin. “I didn’t know if you’d stay.” 

“Yeah, I just… cleaned up a bit,” Junmyeon shrugs. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

Another pained smile spreads across Sehun’s face. “Thanks.” 

“Sorry,” Junmyeon says, and he sets down the kitchen towel. “I’ll get out of your hair.” 

“No, uh, stay for a while,” Sehun says, and he adjusts his hold on his own towel. “I’m just gonna go get dressed. You, uh, you wanna come in?” 

Junmyeon is grateful for the offer. He doesn’t think he could have imposed anymore, but there’s something about the situation that makes him want to help, to stretch out a hand. He’s happy Sehun stretched out a hand for him to take. 

He nods, following Sehun back into the bedroom. He enters the room, and it smells like Sehun’s cologne, spicy and sweet and masculine. He’s been in Sehun’s bedroom once before, after a playoff win when he took Sehun home. He was drunk, stumbling through the halls, and Junmyeon held him up. Cared for him. 

Junmyeon thinks back on that night fondly. Alcohol makes Sehun clingier than normal. 

“Sorry,” Sehun apologizes, and he drops his towel, standing in front of his closet. “I know it’s kinda messy.” 

Junmyeon looks up to the ceiling to avoid the bare flesh. He’s gotten used to it in a locker room, but here, removed from the context of hockey, Sehun’s naked body is a lot more alluring. A lot more torturous. A lot… more. 

“It’s fine,” Junmyeon comments. “My place is messy too.” 

Junmyeon keeps his eyes averted as Sehun dresses, slipping into underwear and shorts, and he quickly looks around the room. 

“Somehow doubt that,” Sehun says, a little muffled and funny as he gets used to his new stitches. “Ugh. I’m—”

“Tired?” 

“Yeah,” Sehun says. “Sorry.” 

“Why are you apologizing?” Junmyeon asks. “I’m here to make sure you’re okay.” 

“You didn’t have to,” Sehun reiterates. 

“I did.” 

“You didn’t,” Sehun says, and he sits down on the edge of his bed, “but I’m glad you did.” He points to the other side of the bed. “You can sit.” 

“I should go,” Junmyeon says. “Y-You don’t need anything else, do you?” 

“Maybe, uh, maybe if you just wanted to stay and chat for a while,” Sehun says. “I’m tired, but sometimes I have a hard time falling asleep.” Junmyeon sits without another word, and Sehun takes the opportunity to lean back, resting against his headboard. “Practice is gonna be weird without me, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. “Really weird.” 

“You like having me around?” 

“Don’t fish for compliments,” Junmyeon says. “You know you're our best right D.” 

“I know, I just like hearing you say it.” Junmyeon looks over at him, watches him smile, and he adjusts himself, sitting opposite Sehun, his back against the headboard too. “What else did you get from the CVS?” 

“A couple things for tomorrow so that you wouldn’t have to go out,” Junmyeon says. “I assumed you only had beer and maybe half a leftover hoagie in your fridge.” 

“Yeah,” Sehun says, and he slips a little, sinking into the bed. “Cool. You’re cool.” 

Heat blooms on the tops of Junmyeon’s cheek, and then it occurs to him how silly they must look, sitting there together. He is dressed in a wine-colored Brooks Brothers suit and staring at his striped dress socks, and Sehun is next to him in dark green gym shorts from the University of North Dakota and a bare chest and two stitches through his fat lip. 

“My head hurts,” Sehun says sleepily. 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, “that’s a concussion for you.” 

Sehun slips down the bed even further, and he does something Junmyeon only ever dreamed of: his head falls to Junmyeon's shoulder, and his eyes shut, and he breathes in deeply. 

“Yeah,” he says. “You’re funny.” 

“Shut up,” Junmyeon says, scared to move even an inch for fear of Sehun picking his head up and ending the moment. 

“Do you ever think about… about that time in the shower?” 

Junmyeon’s stomach jumps up into his mouth, and he forces himself to swallow over it. 

“I think about it,” Junmyeon says, and every little bit of him wants to take it further, draw this conversation to its logical conclusion. 

But he doesn’t. He leaves it where it lies. 

“Cool,” Sehun says, and the exhaustion is thick and fuzzy in his voice. “That’s good.” 

“You’re so fucked up right now, aren’t you?” Junmyeon says, and he feels like a fucking statue, a metal suit with a fire inside. Sehun must be able to feel him, but does he know exactly how insane this is? Can he even fathom it in the state he’s in? 

“I’m not fucked up,” Sehun says, but even that sounds fucked up. 

“You should rest,” Junmyeon says. “Recuperate.” 

“Mm,” Sehun says, and he nuzzles into Junmyeon’s shoulder just a touch. “Yeah.” 

“You don’t have to get up early tomorrow for practice,” Junmyeon reminds him. “That’s nice, isn’t it?” 

“It is. But…” 

“But?” 

“But I’ll miss you guys,” Sehun says. “I hate not being there.” 

“I know,” Junmyeon says. “But you’ll be back sooner than you think.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

Sehun gently lifts his head, and Junmyeon withdraws from underneath it. As he stands, Sehun picks up the comforter and maneuvers himself beneath it, eyes closed as he moves. 

“So, uh, I got you some easy to eat food, I got you some water and Gatorade in the fridge,” Junmyeon says. “The medicine is on the counter. Make sure you read the label. Stay away from ibuprofen, okay? If your head still hurts after you take the medicine, call, okay?” 

“Yeah,” Sehun says. 

“Is there anything else you need?” Junmyeon asks. “I can stop somewhere tomorrow if you need.” 

“I’m good,” Sehun says, chest falling with a sigh. “But you’ll come tomorrow anyway? Just to check on me?” 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, “unless you don’t want me to.” 

“I want you to,” Sehun says. “If you want to.” 

Junmyeon bites his lip. “Okay, I’ll come.” 

“Cool,” Sehun says, and the sleep is coming for him steadily. “Okay. Cool.” 

“Text me if you need anything,” Junmyeon says. “Anything at all, okay?” 

“Yeah.” His eyes are shut, and Junmyeon thinks he might already be asleep. “Yeah, okay.” 

“Good night,” Junmyeon says, and he gets no response, but that’s all right with him. He closes the door behind him, pads back out through Sehun’s apartment. He locks the door behind him, and he drives home, thinking too many things. 

He doesn’t manage to fall asleep for a while, not until his brain finally gives up, knowing that the problem of Sehun will survive the night, no matter what he does.  
  


☓

Practice is hell the following morning, and his joints don’t feel the same way they did when he was nineteen. He hates getting older. Every year, it gets a little more difficult to deal with.

They’re in trouble with the coach, obviously. They lost one of their top defensemen to a stupid fight, a fight that should have been avoided at all costs. They were winning. It’s his fault, so he takes the bag skate like a form of penance. 

By the time he’s in the showers, he can barely think about anything besides getting to Sehun. 

He picks up ice cream on the way to Sehun’s apartment, knowing that he almost certainly shouldn’t be alone. Sehun takes things hard, and Junmyeon… this was all his fault anyway. He’s always relied on other players to fight for him, and this was no different. 

Still, it does feel strange to be going even though Sehun specifically asked him to come. It feels a little too homey, a little too domestic and comforting. A little too much like what a WAG might do. 

He concentrates on the road, on the _zero_ texts he’s received from Sehun in the interim. He is being a good captain. He’s taking care of a teammate. He’s helping the team. If that’s how he has to frame it to himself, then that’s how he’ll frame it. He doesn’t care. He just wants to do it. 

He gets up to the door, the pint of ice cream in his hand, and he shoots Sehun a quick text _at your door_ before he knocks. Sehun appears a moment later, hair ruffled, eyes bleary. 

“You look like shit,” Junmyeon says softly. 

“Thanks,” Sehun says, and he steps to the side to let Junmyeon in. “You brought ice cream?” 

“You’re sick,” Junmyeon says. “Ice cream helps.” 

“You think?”

“Y-Yeah, of course,” Junmyeon says. “You never heard that before?” 

“Maybe once from you,” Sehun smiles, and Junmyeon kicks off his shoes. “How was practice?” 

“Bag skate.” 

“Rough.” 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, and he looks around. “Uh. Did you… did you sleep okay?” 

“Weird dreams,” Sehun says, and he brings his hand up to his forehead. “Really weird.” 

“Yeah?” Junmyeon smiles. “Was I in any?” 

“Yeah,” Sehun says, and he does not elaborate as he turns towards the kitchen. “You want anything to drink?” 

“I’m good,” Junmyeon says. “But you should grab something and lie down. We can hang in your room if you want.” 

“Yeah, sounds good.” Sehun grabs a bottle of water and a spoon. 

“Oh, you wanna eat the ice cream now?” 

Sehun shrugs. “If not now, when?” 

“That’s pretty philosophical.” 

“I’m a genius,” Sehun says. “Wanna see my degree?” 

“Business administration, right?” Sehun nods. “What kind of business are you administrating right now, hm?” 

“The business of not getting my brain knocked around my skull anymore,” Sehun says. “Come on. I’m sleepy.” 

Junmyeon brings the pint of ice cream to the bedroom, and he is greeted with several crushed Gatorades, empty bowls, and a chip bag. 

“Hungry,” Sehun says. “Thank you for the food.” 

“Least I could do.” 

Sehun sits on the bed, and Junmyeon goes to join him. He tears the plastic off, crumpling it up and putting it on the bedside table. He hands the pint to Sehun with a smile, and Sehun pulls off the lid happily. 

“I don’t know how you managed to get my favorite flavor,” Sehun says. 

“You told me when you were drunk,” Junmyeon says. “After that game in St. Louis.” 

“We kicked the shit outta them,” Sehun says wistfully. 

“Yeah. Fuck them.” 

Sehun rests against the headboard as he dips into the ice cream, lifting the spoon to his mouth. He moans around it. 

“Feels so good,” he mumbles. “On my mouth.” 

“You’re so stupid,” Junmyeon laughs, but he watches Sehun indulge. Maybe he’ll come back a bit bigger. The coaches always wanted him to put on more weight. 

“Are you excited for playoffs?” Sehun asks, and he swallows thickly. 

“You wanna talk about this?” 

“Of course I do,” Sehun says. “I care.” 

“You’re supposed to be detoxing from hockey,” Junmyeon says. 

“I am.” 

“I mean, like, in all things,” Junmyeon says. “No updates. No thinking about hockey. No playoffs. No… no nothing.” Sehun’s face falls as he takes another bite of his ice cream. “What?” 

“Nothing.” 

“No, what?” 

“That’s gonna make me feel like I’m all alone.” 

Junmyeon bites his lip. He doesn’t want that. 

“I’ll keep you updated, then.” 

Sehun smiles, his mouth bruised.“Thank you.” 

He eats half the pint of ice cream in relative silence as Junmyeon watches him, and Junmyeon idly wonders if this feels weird to Sehun. It doesn’t feel weird to Junmyeon, but that in and of itself is weird, isn’t it? They shouldn’t feel so comfortable together. They shouldn’t work so well in silence. 

“Mm,” Sehun hums happily. “Cookie dough.” 

“You’re very simple,” Junmyeon says. “What do you think our chances are for the first round?” 

“Depends,” Sehun says, and he sucks on the tip of the spoon for a moment. 

“On what?” 

“Whether I’m good to play,” Sehun says. 

“Sehun,” Junmyeon says. 

“What? I could recover quick,” Sehun says. “I’m really regenerative.” 

“This is your brain,” Junmyeon says. 

“This is your brain on concussion,” Sehun smiles, but Junmyeon doesn’t find it funny. “Oh, come on. I’m just saying—”

“You’re gonna take it seriously,” Junmyeon says. “You’re not gonna fuck around with this.” 

“I’m not, I’m not,” Sehun says, browbeaten. He sits back against the headboard as he sulks. “I just… first round doesn’t start for another two weeks. A-And I just thought…” 

He needs hope, Junmyeon realizes. He needs to believe that he’ll be able to come back. 

“You’re gonna be okay, you know that, right?” Junmyeon says. “You’re gonna come back.” 

“What if something bad happens?” 

Junmyeon looks over at Sehun, and Sehun looks at him. They share a moment of understanding, of concern, of comfort. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” Junmyeon promises. “I’m here for you.” 

Sehun’s mouth moves, falling open as if about to speak, but he shuts it a second later in favor of leaning his head on Junmyeon’s shoulder. Junmyeon wondered if this was just a one off, just a little moment of weakness. 

That’s all they are, he realizes, their whole relationship. Moments of weakness strung together, end to end. 

“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon says softly. 

“Why?” Sehun says sleepily. “You’re not super comfortable, but that’s because you’re boney.” 

Junmyeon snorts, and for a second, the crushing feeling in his chest alleviates. It’s only for a second, though, and then it comes screaming back at him. 

“It makes me feel a little guilty if I’m being honest.” 

“Why would you feel guilty?” 

“I’m the reason you’re here,” Junmyeon says, and his throat tightens around tears. “I’m the reason you can’t play.” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Sehun rolls his eyes. “Shut up.” 

“I’m serious,” Junmyeon says. “I feel awful. And I just wanted to apologize.” 

“If you’re apologizing, I don’t want it.” 

Sehun sits up, and he puts the half finished pint of ice cream on the bedside table. Junmyeon watches as it softens. Sehun sinks down into his nest of blankets, back to Junmyeon as he cuddles the comforter close to him. 

“Sehun,” Junmyeon says, but Junmyeon doesn’t understand. He feels himself tense up like before a fight. “Why? I just…” 

Sehun flips over angrily, facing Junmyeon. 

“You don’t get it,” Sehun whispers, his brow a hard line. “You don’t get it at all.” 

“I get it,” Junmyeon says. “I do.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

Junmyeon resists the urge to pet over the thin line of sweat on Sehun’s forehead, but this is a hazy, in-between type moment, and he will take advantage of every one of those that he can. He stretches out a hand, covers Sehun’s forehead with it, and Sehun’s eyes flutter closed. 

“Then tell me what I don’t get. Tell me what I don’t understand.” 

“You think you can’t fight,” Sehun says, and Junmyeon pets over his forehead slowly. “You think you rely on everyone else.” 

“And—” 

“And it’s fucking stupid,” Sehun says softly. “It’s ridiculous. You fight for each and every one of us. And it was time someone stood up for you for a change.” 

It’s funny because as he’s sitting next to Sehun, a hand on his forehead, the sweat… he thinks back to their kiss again. That’s when he thinks back to the time in the shower. That’s when he thinks about the way Sehun licked his lips afterward, walked away from Junmyeon with a tilt in his hips. 

Epinephrine, adrenaline, the drive, the fucking _desire_. Electricity in his blood and in his brain, thumping through him, trembling like bass. 

“Do you remember when we kissed?” Sehun asks again, this time a little more clear, reading Junmyeon’s mind like it isn’t a big deal at all. 

Junmyeon withdraws his hand from Sehun. There’s no way he can be touching Sehun during this conversation, a conversation that will surely leave him devastated. 

“Yeah, I remember,” Junmyeon says. 

“Are you gay?” And terrified, Junmyeon nods. “I thought so.”

“Yeah,” Junmyeon smiles, tears leaping to his eyes. “Sorry.” 

They’ve been best friends since Sehun was traded to the team, they’ve been through so much, and yet… it’s only just come out. It’s like that, he thinks, with what they do. They hide so they can do what they want. What calls them. 

“Why are you sorry?” Sehun asks. “I’m gay. T-That’s why I kissed you.” 

Junmyeon grabs his leg with his free hand to stop it from shaking, leaning over Sehun and staring down into his eyes. It doesn’t feel real, feels _surreal_. Feels like every dream he’s ever had braided together into a pretty red rope, tight around Sehun’s waist, tight around his own. Tying them together. 

“Do you only like me because I’m gay too?” Junmyeon asks. 

Sehun smiles. “I’m concussed. Don’t ask me hard questions.” 

“Is it hard?” 

“No,” Sehun says. “I like you because you’re you. It’s very lucky that you’re gay.” 

“It is lucky,” Junmyeon says, and he sucks in a terrified breath. “I—”

“We don’t have to do this right now,” Sehun says, eyes slipping shut. “We can just be quiet if you want. I just thought… I didn’t want you to think I was doing it for no good reason.” He opens his eyes sleepily. “I did it because I couldn’t just stand there and watch. I did it because I love you, and that’s what you do when you love someone. You fight for them.” 

“You—” 

“Yeah, dumbass,” Sehun says. “I love you.” 

“I-Is this what head trauma does to a person?” 

“Nah,” Sehun smiles. “Just years of pining, I think.” 

Junmyeon leans forward, twitching towards Sehun’s body, but he holds himself back, angles himself backwards. 

“What?” Sehun asks. “What’s wrong?” 

“I, uh, I wanted to kiss you,” Junmyeon confesses. “And then I rethought. Y-You got stitches, and…” 

Sehun’s smile is like every goal Junmyeon’s ever scored, the shining red light and strained screams of ecstasy. Sehun is the thrill of winning. Sehun is the competition. Sehun has always been a string of love chemicals, boiled down, reduced to a rush of blood to the head. 

“That’s always been your problem.” He takes Junmyeon by the back of the neck, gently drags him down like sleep. “You think too much.” 

He kisses Junmyeon just like the first time, a fucking dream, so beautiful that Junmyeon thinks he must be dreaming. Junmyeon freezes, body shocked with ice cold water as it becomes accustomed to the warmth of Sehun’s body. He holds himself over Sehun, eyes closing as he loses himself to the moment. 

He is overwhelmed by the passion, by the _final_ feeling of it all. He doesn’t often admit to himself that this is who he is, but as he’s lying in Sehun’s arms, it feels incredibly easy, feels incredibly right. This is who he was always meant to be. He’s loved Sehun since they met. He’s loved every moment they got to spend together, on ice and off. 

Junmyeon pulls back, and Sehun’s hand goes to his mouth. 

“D-Did it hurt?” Junmyeon asks. 

“Yeah, a little,” Sehun smiles. “But, uh, it was worth it.” 

Junmyeon’s heart pulls in his chest, and he takes Sehun in an embrace. It is the happiest he’s ever been… ever, he thinks. Ever. No need to qualify it. Ever since he was little, he’s dreamed about belonging, being able to be himself, and maybe… maybe with Sehun, he could belong. He could be himself. 

Junmyeon cuddles him close, Sehun’s head just underneath his. Junmyeon presses a kiss to his hair, closing his eyes. It’s everything to him. This moment is everything to him. 

“Can we take a nap?” Sehun asks. “I know it’s only, like, one but…” 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. “Let’s sleep.” 

They share so much silence, the kind that lends itself to sleep, but Junmyeon thrums with energy. Satisfied and happy. 

“I’m sorry it took so long,” Sehun whispers. “I’m sorry it took this.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t, like, you know…” 

“Junmyeon, shut up,” Sehun whispers, and Junmyeon can hear his smile. 

“Okay,” Junmyeon says, and he holds Sehun all throughout their sleep.  
  


☓

Junmyeon wakes after the nap thinking that perhaps it was just a very good dream that happened to leap into his head. He lies next to Sehun, staring down at him with an undeniable fondness. He is so very beautiful, Junmyeon thinks, smiling as he combs his fingers through Sehun’s hair.

It feels like a dream. He is half convinced he’s in the middle of a dream. 

Sehun wakes several moments later, lashes batting as he stares up at Junmyeon. His cheeks are blush red as he puts his palm along Junmyeon’s chest, eyes full of rest. 

“Hey,” Sehun says. “What time is it?” 

“Two thirty,” Junmyeon answers. 

Sehun makes a soft noise, and he scoots closer to Junmyeon, burying his face into Junmyeon’s chest. 

“I can’t believe this is real,” Junmyeon says. “I can’t believe—not only is it _not_ a dream, but you don’t regret it.” 

“What are you talking about?” Sehun asks sleepily. “Why would I regret it?”

Junmyeon breathes in and out, and he tightens his arms around Sehun. Sehun seems content to give Junmyeon time to think things through, so Junmyeon does. Why would he regret it? Why _wouldn’t_ he? There’s so much that could go wrong, there is so much at stake, and… 

It’s only been a couple hours, Junmyeon tells himself. _Don’t let all your crazy out at once._

“Things might be weird,” Junmyeon settles on. “Team-wise.” 

“Well, I’m not on the team right now,” Sehun smiles, hazy. “So no worries, right?” 

Junmyeon bites his lip, and he leans forward in bed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Right.” 

They lie there in pleasant quiet for the better part of the evening, and Junmyeon makes them ramen by the time dinner rolls around. They eat in bed, their legs pressed together in a tight line. Junmyeon’s whole body goes hot as they eat, as they chit chat. 

“I should go,” Junmyeon says. 

“Yeah,” Sehun says. “Afternoon game tomorrow.” 

Junmyeon’s heart crumbles. “Yeah.” 

“Don’t be sad,” Sehun says. “I’m not sad.” 

“Yeah, you are,” Junmyeon says. “But I’m gonna score for you.” 

“You’re so cheesy,” Sehun says, and he tries to split into a wide smile. “I love it.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

Junmyeon leans in and he presses a soft kiss to Sehun’s lips before he can think better of it. Sehun moans quietly, and when Junmyeon draws back, Sehun brings his hand to his mouth, fingers gentle on his lips. 

“I… I like when you do that,” Sehun says. “It makes me feel better.” 

“Y-Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Sehun says. “Once more before you go, okay?” 

Junmyeon kisses him again, and he wonders how they managed this long, hiding who they really are.  
  


☓

The game is a shit-show without him, but man, does it feel good to win. They have been on a hot streak ever since the home stand began, and maybe it’s something about being able to sleep in your own bed, maybe it’s the energy billowing out from the bones of the arena, Junmyeon will never be able to say. All he knows is that they play messy, but they win. They just keep on winning.

It doesn’t stop him from worrying, thinking about Sehun. He needs to check on him, needs to… needs to know that he’s okay. 

He calls on his way back to Sehun’s apartment, still trembling with nervous energy. 

“Hey,” Sehun says sleepily. “How’d it go?” 

“I scored,” Junmyeon says. “A-And we won.” 

“Yay,” Sehun cheers. “Describe your move. I want elaborate detail.” 

“Backhand, forehand, backhand,” Junmyeon says. “God, you would have loved it.” 

“I know I would have,” Sehun says. “I bet you made that goalie look like a fucking moron.” 

Junmyeon smiles as he drives, and he thinks about maybe colliding his body with Sehun’s against the glass. 

“Yeah, a little,” Junmyeon says. “H-How was your day?” 

“It was okay,” Sehun says. 

“How’s your head?” 

“Still soupy.” 

“Did you call your mom?” Junmyeon asks. 

“I did,” Sehun says. “She is mad at me.” 

“For fighting?” 

“For playing hockey,” Sehun says, and Junmyeon can hear the delight in his voice. “But she’s sending a care package.” 

“That’s sweet,” Junmyeon says. 

“Yeah.” There is some silence, just the music of the road under the rubber. “What, uh, what are your plans tonight?” 

“I dunno,” Junmyeon says, “I, uh, I was thinking about stopping over.” 

“I would like that,” Sehun says. “I feel like time passes slower without you.” 

Junmyeon bites his lip. “Yeah?” 

“Don’t get a big head about it, but yeah,” Sehun says. “Besides, you don’t have practice tomorrow, do you?” 

“Nope,” Junmyeon says. “Off day.” 

“Come on over,” Sehun says. “Bring a slurpee.” 

“For me?” 

“For me,” Sehun needles. “I’m sick.” He coughs exaggeratedly. 

“Oh my god, you fuckin’ baby,” Junmyeon says, but he pokes at his phone until he can reroute himself to the nearest 7/11.  
  


☓

Sehun is in gym shorts and tube socks when he answers the door, something like a wet dream Junmyeon has had several thousand times.

“Hey,” Sehun says, and he looks so damn sanded-down, it could break Junmyeon’s heart clean in half. “That for me?” 

“Cherry Coke,” Junmyeon says. “I hope you like that.” 

“Did you do, like, cherry and then Coke?” 

“I layered them,” Junmyeon says. “Cherry. Then Coke. Then cherry. Then Coke.” 

“You’re such a good boyfriend,” Sehun says, and suddenly a wave of terror and warmth rushes through Junmyeon’s blood. “Oh, was that—”

“I, uh…” 

“Should we have… I’m sorry, I just figured since—”

“No,” Junmyeon interrupts quickly. “That’s, um, that’s nice. I… I like that.” 

“You like it?” Sehun asks, and he ruffles a hand through his hair nervously. “You look like you’re looking at a ghost.” 

“No, shut up, I’ve just never heard that… from, well, you know.” 

“A guy?” Sehun asks. 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. “Sorry.” 

“Was it okay?” 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. “I-It’s stupid, but it felt… nice.” 

Sehun smiles, and Junmyeon looks at his stitches. They look like they’re healing well. Junmyeon resists the near overwhelming urge to kiss the shit out of him. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, and he feels like the residual heat between them might melt ice to water. “D-Do you, uh, want me to come in or whatever?” 

“Oh, shit,” Sehun says, and he steps to the side, “yeah, come in.” 

He wanders into Sehun’s place, sliding out of his shoes before passing over the slurpee. Sehun takes it in two hands, holding it like a little kid would. He takes a delighted sip, letting out a delighted _ah_. 

“Man, I haven’t had a slurpee since I was a little kid,” Sehun says happily. 

“Me neither,” Junmyeon says, and he stares at the slurpee longingly. 

“What, you didn’t even take a sip?” 

“No,” Junmyeon says, “aren’t I nice?” 

“The nicest,” Sehun smiles, and he holds out the slurpee. “Here. Sip.” 

“No, come on.” 

“Just one,” Sehun says, and he smiles. “I won’t give you another opportunity, so you might as well take it now.” 

“I’m good.” 

“What, too good for my spit?” Junmyeon’s face flares red, and he looks away. “Ah, I guess not.” 

“Shut up,” Junmyeon murmurs, and he sticks out his hand, grabs the slurpee before taking a long sip. It’s all syrup at the bottom, but it’s still fucking delicious. “Man.” 

“I know, right?” Sehun smiles. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” Junmyeon says, and their hands brush as he passes the cup back to Sehun. “What have you been up to today?” 

“Absolutely nothing.” 

“Really?” 

“I’ve been incredibly good,” Sehun says, and he leads them both over to the couch, flopping down onto it. “Like, so good.” 

“Good,” Junmyeon says, and he sits next to Sehun. “That’s good.” 

“It’s not good.” 

Junmyeon turns, folding up his legs. “Why not?” 

“I’m having no fun,” Sehun says. “I’m miserable.” 

He doesn’t look particularly miserable to Junmyeon, but Sehun can hide his emotions pretty well when he wants to. 

“Seriously?” Junmyeon asks. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No,” Sehun shrugs. He leans against the back of the couch, staring into Junmyeon’s eyes. “Lemme just look at you. Stay still.” 

“Okay,” Junmyeon says, and he sits there, still like a statue. “Is this good?” 

“Yeah.” He looks up and down Junmyeon. “You’re cute.” 

“W-What?” Junmyeon asks. 

Sehun gestures to him broadly, and even as the heat moves through him, he can see the sleep in Sehun’s eyes. Junmyeon wonders when the spark will return, when he will look like himself again. 

“Cute,” Sehun judges. His eyes slip closed. “Sorry, I’m not much fun right now.” 

“Sure you are,” Junmyeon says. 

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.” 

“I want to,” Junmyeon says. “I do.” 

“Even if I’m boring?” 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. 

Sehun pouts as he sits up angrily. 

“It’s so annoying,” Sehun says. “Can’t read, can’t watch television or movies, can’t listen to music.” He shrugs his shoulders. “What is there to do?” 

“I’m here,” Junmyeon says. “We can sit and talk.” 

Sehun smiles at him, and he looks so silly with his stitches. 

“Okay,” Sehun says. “That sounds nice.” He lies back against the couch again. “What should we talk about?” 

Junmyeon waffles. Every time they talk and they aren’t drunk, they talk about hockey. He doesn’t feel like hockey is the best conversation at a time like this though. 

“How about the Devils?” Junmyeon asks, desperately needing something to say. 

“Crazy,” Sehun says, and he leans in, pressing his mouth against Junmyeon’s cheek. “You’re so fuckin’ cute.” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“You are,” Sehun says. “Everyone thinks so.” 

“ _Everyone_ ,” Junmyeon scoffs. 

“Yeah, everyone,” Sehun says. 

“That is not true.” 

“It is,” Sehun says. “Even people who wouldn’t admit it.” 

Junmyeon gently nudges Sehun’s shoulder with a closed fist, and it makes Sehun smile. He can’t wait until the stitches heal. He can’t wait until they can do a little more than this. 

“What are you thinking about?” Sehun asks, and for a second, Junmyeon thinks to the showers, to the moment that they made all that steam. “Yeah, I know what you’re thinking.” 

“I’m not thinking anything.” 

“You’re thinking something,” Sehun says. “You’re definitely thinking something.” Junmyeon picks at his fingernails, needing something to do. “It’s good, though. I’m thinking something too.” 

Junmyeon bites his lip, and he pets his fingers through Sehun’s hair. 

“Drink your slurpee,” Junmyeon says. “It’s gonna be all melty.” 

“I don’t mind,” Sehun says, and they sit there until it’s time for bed, until the exhaustion comes for the both of them. 

It is probably the best night of Junmyeon’s life, and he wonders if that will hold, every night they spend together the next best night. Sehun tosses him clothes, and they change in Sehun’s bedroom together. Junmyeon keeps his eyes averted for a moment before realizing that it’s okay if he looks. Sehun already knows. 

Sehun shoves his gym shorts down his legs, stepping out of his socks easily. All of a sudden, Sehun’s there in just his boxer-briefs, and Junmyeon bites his lip as he pulls himself out of his suit. 

“You can hang it up if you want,” Sehun says, and he points towards his closet. 

Junmyeon takes the opportunity to turn away from Sehun, carefully hanging up his suit so that it doesn’t wrinkle too badly. He steps into a pair of Sehun’s old sweats, and they look ridiculous on him. He smiles, turning back to the bed, and Sehun is spread across it like he doesn’t even realize how beautiful he is. 

“All good?” Sehun asks. 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, and he clears his throat as he walks back to his side of the bed. 

_My side of the bed_ , he thinks happily. 

“Our first sleepover,” Sehun says, and butterflies streak through Junmyeon’s stomach. 

“We’ve had sleepovers before,” Junmyeon says, and he climbs into Sehun’s bed, flooded with heat. 

“Hotels don’t count, idiot.” 

“Ah, my mistake.” 

Sehun gets under the covers too, and there, under the sheets, their legs brush. Junmyeon jumps back, and Sehun spits out a laugh. 

“Are you okay?” Sehun asks. 

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” Junmyeon says, and he shakes his head as he moves back towards Sehun, their legs brushing against each other again. “God.” 

“Isn’t it crazy that… that it took all this?” Sehun says sleepily. 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. “It’s crazy.” 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Sehun says, and his eyes are warm. 

“I’m not doing anything,” Junmyeon says. 

“Slurpees aren’t nothing,” Sehun whispers. “Cuddling isn’t nothing.” 

Junmyeon bites his lip, joyful. “Are we cuddling?” 

“Not yet,” Sehun says, and he turns his back to Junmyeon. “But we could be.” 

The breadth of his shoulders is insane, and Junmyeon traces the lines of his musculature with his eyes before realizing that Sehun has given him explicit permission to touch. He reaches out with delicate fingertips and draws them across the shadows of Sehun’s traps, delts, lats. He is incredible. He is perfect. 

“This isn’t cuddling,” Sehun whispers. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Sehun says, and again, Junmyeon can hear the smile. 

Junmyeon gathers up all his courage before gathering Sehun in his arms, pressing their bodies together. Sehun sighs, deep and comforting, and Junmyeon presses a soft kiss to the back of Sehun’s neck. 

“I think I’m gonna get concussed more often,” Sehun says. 

“I could kill you,” Junmyeon says. 

Sehun laughs, but it’s very easy to fall asleep like that, wrapped up in each other.  
  


☓

Junmyeon makes a point to visit Sehun as often as he possibly can. They talk about all manner of things, and once Sehun gets permission from his doctor to watch a bit of television, his mood improves. That, in turn, improves Junmyeon’s mood. He hadn’t realized before just how important Sehun was to him, but now that everything’s out in the open, he can’t stop thinking about it.

The season closes not with a bang, but with a whimper. 

“I had a checkup,” Sehun says. 

“Yeah?” Junmyeon asks, the phone caught between his shoulder and his ear as he drives. “How’d that go?” 

“I thought I would be ready to start exercising,” Sehun says. “I feel good, you know.” 

“I know,” Junmyeon says. “What did the doctor say?” 

“No more monkeys jumping on the bed,” Sehun says sadly. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means no,” Sehun sighs. 

“It’s only been a week and a half,” Junmyeon says. “Give it time.” 

“No.” 

“No?” 

“I demand excellence,” Sehun says. “That’s what my dad always said. _I demand excellence._ ”

“Well,” Junmyeon says, turning on his blinker to switch lanes, “I believe the doctors have a saying of their own.” 

“Do they?” 

“ _I demand clean brain scans._ ” He is met with silence. “Come on, that was funny.” 

“You mock my pain.” 

“Life is pain,” Junmyeon says. 

“Please,” Sehun says. “I’m already in enough stress.” 

“When’s your next appointment?” Junmyeon asks. 

“Next week,” Sehun says. “They told me to keep taking it easy.” 

“I think that’s wise.” 

“I’m gonna miss the first round,” Sehun says. “I mean, it’s over.” 

Junmyeon’s heart sinks into his stomach. Of course, he knew it was a possibility, a _probability_ , but hearing Sehun say it makes it real. 

“Then I guess we just have to make sure you make it back for the second round,” Junmyeon says. He is met with silence, but it is the kind of silence from Sehun that Junmyeon knows means acceptance. “We’ve got home ice.” 

“Yeah,” Sehun says quietly. “That’s cool.” 

“And then, we’ll go somewhere together.” 

“Boston, probably,” Sehun says, disgusted. 

“Be nice.” 

“I don’t like them.” 

“Hey, me neither,” Junmyeon says, and Sehun laughs. “Should I come over?” 

“Yeah,” Sehun says. “Please.” 

It’s rare for Sehun to ask for anything with _please_. He must really need Junmyeon. He goes without another word. 

Sehun opens the door for him, takes him in his arms, and hugs him close. Junmyeon doesn’t say anything, knows better than that. All he does is hug Sehun back, squeezing him tightly in the embrace. 

“I’m sad,” Sehun says. “I really think this is our year.” 

_It is_ , Junmyeon thinks. _It will be._  
  


☓

They take the first game, lose the second, and their coaches give them rest before the third. Sehun asks him over after, and Junmyeon realizes that most of his free time now is spent in Sehun’s apartment.

“How was practice?” Sehun asks. “How was Chanyeol?” 

“Turn your brain off,” Junmyeon advises. 

“I can’t,” Sehun says. “I wanna know if he’s finally fixed the power play.” 

“Without you? Not a chance.” 

“Hey,” Sehun says with a smile, nicely healed up now. “You’re sweet.” 

“Well, I, like, like you,” Junmyeon says, voice stilted. 

“Holy shit.” 

“What?” 

“You’re just really fuckin’ cute,” Sehun shrugs. “I mean, I knew when we eventually got here, it would feel good, but holy shit… this is fun.” 

Junmyeon’s stomach twists inside him, and he twists his hands in his lap. 

“You’re having fun?” 

“Of course,” Sehun says. “Despite the fact that I’m on _lockdown_... I’m still having a lot of fun with you because you’re, like, the best or whatever.” 

“T-Thank you,” Junmyeon says. 

“No problem, captain,” Sehun smiles. He nudges his leg against Junmyeon’s. “Can we make out now?” 

“You wanna make out?” 

“I thought that’s the reason you came?” 

Junmyeon rolls his eyes as he pulls Sehun by the collar. Sehun kisses him fiercely, a little too fiercely for someone with a brain injury, and Junmyeon gently slows him, guides him to rest against the back of the couch. 

“Why are you slowing me down?” 

“No exciting activity,” Junmyeon says. “Not until the doctor says so.” 

“Making out is exciting,” Sehun says. “I’ve been making out with you a lot lately.” 

“Are you gonna report me to the Players Association?” Junmyeon smiles. 

“Not a fuckin’ chance.”  
  


☓

Sehun gets the all-clear to return to light aerobic exercise by the time they’ve won their third game, right on the cusp of winning their way to the second round. Sehun enthuses after each goal, each assist, and he practically recaps the entire game when Junmyeon gets back to his hotel room. They eat together on FaceTime, and they fall asleep listening to each other breathe. It’s… it’s amazing. It’s perfect. It makes Junmyeon think about how good it will be once Sehun is playing again, once he’s back.

“I’m keeping busy,” Sehun says, and Junmyeon is happy to hear him staying positive. “Lots of biking.” 

“That’s good,” Junmyeon says. “I’m proud.” 

“Are you guys gonna win?” Sehun asks. 

“Well, we’ll be home again soon,” Junmyeon says. “That always helps.” 

“Come see me after,” Sehun says. “I know you’re gonna win.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Sehun says. “And you should score for me too.”

“I will.” A beat. “What do I get if I score?” 

“The thrill of bringing honor to a historic franchise? Or do you need something a bit more… physical?” 

Junmyeon’s stomach twists. “Honor is good.” 

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that,” Sehun whispers, and for some reason that makes Junmyeon want to prove himself. “Coward.” 

“I’m not a coward,” Junmyeon says. 

“Suck my dick, then,” Sehun says. 

“S-Shut up.” 

“If you score,” Sehun says, and it sounds like equal parts threat and promise. 

“You’re not supposed to engage in any physical contact yet,” Junmyeon says even as sweat beads on his forehead. 

“If we sixty-nine and I don’t get a headache, then I think I’ll be clear for skating, what do you think?” Sehun says happily. 

“Get some rest,” Junmyeon says. “It’s late.” 

“Yes, captain.”  
  


☓

They win on home ice, and they move into the second round.

He goes for drinks, obligated by his position, but Chanyeol sits at his side, poking him. 

“You wanna leave, huh,” Chanyeol says, slurring just a bit. 

“No,” Junmyeon says. 

“He’s lucky to have someone like you,” Chanyeol says. 

“I’m not doing anything anyone else wouldn’t do.” 

“Okay,” Chanyeol says, but when Junmyeon looks at him on his way out, he wears a knowing smile. 

Junmyeon drives across the city, and he watches the lights dance from red to green. All the while, he thinks of Sehun. 

When Sehun answers the door, he is wearing a beautiful, broken smile. The scar is lovely, just like him. 

“Congratulations,” Sehun says. “Good assist.” 

“It was no goal,” Junmyeon says. “So…” 

“So I guess we have to settle for making out and dry humping,” Sehun says eagerly, pulling Junmyeon across the threshold, the door shut behind them.  
  


☓

The second round begins at home once more, and Sehun comes back to practice for the first time since the fight. The boys give him a round of applause before they do their skating exercises, and Junmyeon keeps a close eye on him as he lazily skates around the rink. He looks to the coaches, and they whisper as they watch him, doctors standing near the bench to monitor him.

“You’re slow,” Jongin says, poking Junmyeon in the side with the butt of his stick. “Pick it up, and stop making eyes at Oh.” 

Junmyeon blinks wetly. He’s gotta be a little more discreet. 

“I’m just joking,” Jongin says. 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon smiles, and he elbows Jongin back. “I know, buddy.” 

He gets his head in the game, thinks about the opponent for the evening, and before long, practice is over. He pats his teammates on the back as he leaves the ice, and after his shower, he seeks out Sehun. 

He finds him breathless and smiling in one of the offices, still suited up. 

“How do you feel?” Junmyeon asks. 

“Feeling great,” Sehun says. “I think, uh, I think maybe a few more skates and then they’ll let me do drills.” 

Junmyeon bites his lip. “Good.” 

Sehun smiles at him. “Yeah.” 

Junmyeon feels comfortable with the knowledge that they are both thinking of touching, holding each other. He leaves the room, and he thinks about later. Later.  
  


☓

They win the first two games of the second round, fumbling the third. The brightest part of Junmyeon’s trip south is the fact that Sehun is cleared to enter passing drills.

“Bring it home with the lead,” Sehun says. “Seriously, I just wanna see you.” 

“I wanna see you too,” Junmyeon says. “I wanna see you skating again.” 

“Wind in my hair,” Sehun says wistfully. 

“ _No_.” 

“Wind running through my helmet,” Sehun corrects. 

“Better.” 

“I love you,” Sehun says. “I really… I really think I’m doing so well because of you.” 

Junmyeon doesn’t let himself dwell on such a compliment. 

“Shut up,” Junmyeon says. “This is because of you… b-but I love you too.” 

“Remember what I said,” Sehun says. “A goal.” 

Junmyeon hasn’t stopped thinking about it, not for a second. He’s getting antsy. 

“Tomorrow, I think. For sure.”  
  


☓

Once again, they clinch in five on home ice, and the feeling of the win is unbelievable. They are so close now, so unbelievably close. With Sehun right around the corner, he thinks… he thinks they really might be able to do it.

Sehun watches game five, and he smiles as they celebrate in the locker room. He drives them back to Sehun’s together, and even just from that, Junmyeon knows something’s off. They walk up together in silence, and Junmyeon struggles to find something to say. 

They get ready for bed in that same stale silence, and it’s only when Junmyeon asks what’s wrong that Sehun breaks apart. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not much fun tonight,” Sehun says, and there are tears in his eyes. 

“You’re fun,” Junmyeon says. “You’re plenty of fun, why are you—” 

“How sick is it that we won and I’m like this?” Sehun says with a sad laugh. “I’m about to fucking cry like a baby because I wasn’t on the ice. Because I couldn’t help.” 

Junmyeon hadn’t realized. He never thought. Not Sehun. Sehun was strong and smart and tough and _good_. 

“You helped,” Junmyeon says softly. “You’re the only reason we got this far.” 

“And now… and now what?” he says, the sadness seeping through every word, wetting each sentence. “Now I just sit here and watch as you…” 

“As we keep winning,” Junmyeon says. “Until you can come back. And it’ll be soon. I can feel it, I swear.” 

“What if I don’t?” 

“You will.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

“You will,” Junmyeon says. “There’s no other option.” 

“I don’t know,” Sehun says sadly. “Sometimes it feels like I’m never gonna be all the way back to normal.” 

“You will.” 

“How do you know, though?” Sehun says, and the tears finally slip down his face. “How can you be sure?” 

Junmyeon doesn’t have any smart words, none for something like this. All he has is his love for Sehun. All he has is the knowledge that, as long as they’re together, things will be okay. 

He tugs Sehun into an embrace, and Sehun collapses against him in bed, a bed that Junmyeon has spent so much time in now, a bed that he thinks of as… _theirs_. 

“We’re gonna keep going,” Junmyeon says. “It’s been getting easier, right?” 

“Yeah,” Sehun cries. “It’s been getting easier.” 

“So we’ll keep working,” Junmyeon says, and he breathes in harshly, breathes out against Sehun’s shoulder as he holds him by the back of his neck. “We’re gonna keep working, and we’re gonna get you back where you belong.” 

Sehun breathes in, breathes out, breathes in and out. 

“I’m sorry,” Sehun says. “I’m sorry I’m like this.” 

“I love you,” Junmyeon says. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything.” 

“Stop.” 

“It’s true.” 

“I love you,” Sehun says. “I just—”

“I know,” Junmyeon says. “I know.” 

They go to bed, and Junmyeon pets through Sehun’s hair until he falls asleep, tucking the covers around him, and praying, _praying_ that he’ll be back soon.  
  


☓

The other teams go to seven, so they get a few days of much needed rest in between their practices. Sehun runs harder drills, weaving with Chanyeol, and Junmyeon hadn’t realized how much he missed seeing him smile like that… exhilarated.

They return to Sehun’s after practice, and Sehun is practically bouncing off the walls. It’s good seeing him so full of energy after so long of having it zapped from him. He follows, laughing as Sehun leads him to the elevator. 

He kisses Junmyeon inside, Junmyeon’s back against the wall, and he is eager, desperate as he slips a leg between Junmyeon’s. Junmyeon moans into Sehun’s mouth in surprise, and they only spring apart once the doors open. 

“Come on,” Sehun says excitedly, “let’s go lie down.” 

“Nap?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Sehun says, and he takes Junmyeon by the hand, pulling him through the empty hall. “Let’s go.” 

The door closes behind them, and Junmyeon is taken again by surprise as Sehun puts him against the door, kissing him hard. Junmyeon squeezes his eyes shut, moaning as Sehun grinds himself into Junmyeon, gently guiding them both back towards the bedroom. He is breathless, chest heaving as Sehun kisses him, as he _lets_ himself be kissed, as he kisses back. 

It feels like so long ago, that feeling of fear. 

Maybe Sehun helped him just as much as Junmyeon helped Sehun. 

Sehun puts him on the bed, climbs over him, and begins to pepper kisses all over Junmyeon’s face. Junmyeon takes his shoulders in his hands, laughs. 

“Sehun,” Junmyeon gasps. “Sehun, we shouldn’t.” 

“I’m fine,” Sehun says, and he reaches down, taking Junmyeon’s hand in his. He puts it on his chest. “Come on. Touch me.” 

“Sehun—” 

“It’s okay,” Sehun says. “I promise it’s okay.” 

Something about the earnestness of his voice makes Junmyeon pull back to study him. He looks okay. He looks… _fuck_ , he looks _great_. Junmyeon’s only human. 

“Your head doesn’t hurt, right?” 

“It hasn’t hurt in a long time,” Sehun says. “A-And look, if it starts, I’ll tell you, okay?” Junmyeon stares at him, trying to figure out if he’s lying. “I’m not lying!” 

“Okay,” Junmyeon says. “All right, if you _promise_.” 

“Cool, cool,” Sehun says, shocked like he didn’t think he would get this far. “Y-You’ve never fucked around with a guy before, so we should, like, take it slow.” 

“O-Okay.” 

“Hand stuff,” Sehun suggests. “Maybe mouth stuff.” 

Junmyeon’s stomach tenses. “Okay.” 

“And then I’ll nap with you,” Sehun says. “Promise.” 

“Okay,” Junmyeon says, the nervous energy, the epinephrine clambering through him. “Yeah, okay.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. “R-Really, I’ve… I’ve really wanted to.” 

“I know,” Sehun whispers, and he presses the words to Junmyeon’s lips. “I know you wake up hard.” 

“Shut up,” Junmyeon says, and his hips kick upwards on their own accord. “How can you blame me?” 

“I know, right?” Sehun smirks, and he lays his body down on Junmyeon’s, grinding his erection into Junmyeon’s. 

Unfortunately, Junmyeon finds that kind of confidence attractive, so it only serves to ratchet the heat higher and higher, vision wavering in the fire of the moment. Sehun peels him out of his clothes easily, practiced and sure, and when Junmyeon rolls Sehun onto his back to do the same, he notices a shake in his hand. 

“It’s okay,” Sehun says softly. 

Slowly, the clothes fall away, and Junmyeon is rewarded with bare skin, sweat, tensed muscles. He traces them with his fingertips like he’s dreamed, only touching Sehun lower once he works up the courage. 

The moan that falls thoughtlessly from Sehun’s lips is enough to push him forward, circling the head in a tight fist. Sehun writhes in the sheets as Junmyeon touches him, fucking his hand over Sehun’s cock, and he doesn’t know if it really feels as good as Sehun’s making it out to be or if he’s just trying to egg Junmyeon on. 

He lets that fuel him, the competition of it. He kisses along Sehun’s shoulders, down his chest. He licks the lines of Sehun’s abdomen, holding him firmly by the hips before pressing a couple soft kisses to the length of Sehun’s cock. 

“R-Really?” Sehun asks. “Are you sure?” 

Junmyeon doesn’t even let him ask again, only kisses the head of Sehun’s cock wetly, open-mouthed. He kisses it like he’d kiss Sehun’s mouth, licks against the veins as his face goes hot. He’s never done anything so… so wanton. So fucking desperate. He seals his lips around the head, and he sucks down as much as he can, Sehun’s hands in his hair as he gasps and shakes. 

_God_ , Junmyeon thinks, _finally_. 

Sehun makes the most delicious noises, undeniably the hottest thing Junmyeon’s ever heard, and he luxuriates in it, the power. He reaches down his own body as he sucks Sehun off, and he absently strokes his cock, humming with pleasure as he brings them both closer and closer. 

“H-Hey,” Sehun says, and he drags Junmyeon up his body until they are kissing again, lush and decadent. “Come on. Turn over.” 

“Sehun.” 

“I’m serious.” He pats Junmyeon on the ass, and Junmyeon thrusts himself against Sehun. “You want it, don’t you? You want me to suck you off?” 

The obscenity simmers through him, and he can no longer tell himself no. He must have him. He will have him. 

Junmyeon feels spread too thin as he gets himself into position, held over Sehun as he leans down on his elbows to wrap his hand around the base of Sehun’s cock. He holds his hips in the air, and at the first touch of Sehun’s tongue to the tip of his dick, he nearly shudders through an orgasm. 

“S-Shit,” Junmyeon says. 

Sehun laughs, and Junmyeon’s face goes even redder with shame. He goes back to work, sucking Sehun’s cock. 

“When’s the last time you got head?” Sehun asks, and Junmyeon refuses to answer, too embarrassed. 

Thankfully, Sehun doesn’t question him any longer, just mouths at the head of his dick, making Junmyeon moan as he throats as much of Sehun as he can. It doesn’t take long for him to be teetering on the edge again, but he curls his toes in a fruitless attempt to hold off. 

Sehun comes in his mouth, and Junmyeon swallows it down gratefully. Junmyeon can’t hold on much longer, especially not with the vibrations running through him, the way Sehun clutches him so tight. It’s never been better. It’s never felt more right. 

They collapse in ecstasy, and Junmyeon eventually gets the energy to move so that he’s lying in Sehun’s arms. If Sehun’s head wasn’t spinning before, he thinks, it must be now. They shouldn’t have done that. They should have waited. 

“Next time, we’ll do better,” Sehun says softly, and Junmyeon laughs. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

“Nap,” Sehun tells him. “Nap and bask in the afterglow.” 

Junmyeon closes his eyes, head on Sehun’s chest, and that is agreement enough.  
  


☓

He wakes wrapped in Sehun’s arms, and he thinks it is probably the best he’s ever slept. Sehun stirs not long after him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. _Isn’t this nice?_ , he thinks to himself. _Wouldn’t this be nice to have forever?_

“We’re supposed to go to dinner,” Junmyeon says. “We gotta get ready.” 

“I can’t go,” Sehun says. 

Junmyeon pulls back. Looks at him funny. 

“Why not?” 

“I didn’t wanna say earlier,” Sehun says. “Just in case it made you worry.” 

“Worry how?” 

He presses a soft kiss to Junmyeon’s lips. 

“I have a meeting with the coach and with the doctor,” Sehun says. “So, like, wish me luck.” 

_This is it_ , Junmyeon thinks. _Now or never._

“I’m wishing you luck,” Junmyeon says. “Is there anything you need me to do?” 

“Just tell me it’s gonna be okay,” Sehun whispers. “Even if I don’t—” 

“It’s gonna be okay.”

Sehun smiles, and his eyes slip closed as he slips over the sheets to kiss Junmyeon again. 

“Thank you,” Sehun says. 

“You’re welcome.”  
  


☓

It’s hard to focus on dinner. He eats a lot, listens to the stupid stories that Jongin and Chanyeol toss back and forth, but it doesn’t really help. His heart jumps into his mouth at the thought of Sehun being able to come back for the next round. They’d be unstoppable. A force to be reckoned with.

Junmyeon goes back to Sehun’s after dinner, and his stomach is turning over inside him. He drank a quick beer towards the end, and it bubbles up inside him. 

He pushes open the door, navigates through the apartment, and sees Sehun is sitting on the bed, head in his hands. Junmyeon’s stomach drops. 

“H-Hey,” Junmyeon says. 

Sehun picks his head up, and the funny feeling inside dissipates so quickly it makes Junmyeon dizzy. The light in his eyes, Junmyeon thinks, _there it is_.

“I’m cleared,” Sehun says enthusiastically. “I’m _cleared_.” 

“You’re gonna play?” 

“I’m gonna play,” Sehun smiles. “Just in time.” 

Junmyeon cannot stem the tide of excitement that washes over him, the furious, intense wave of joy. He throws himself at Sehun, arms wrapped around Sehun’s neck. 

“We’re gonna win, aren’t we?” Sehun gasps. “Tell me we’ll win. I’ve been so scared… coming back I won’t be as good. What if we fucking lose? What if we don’t make it past the third round? What if, after all that, we don’t do anything?” He pulls back, looks into Junmyeon’s eyes with fear. “Tell me we’ll win.” 

“We’ve got you,” Junmyeon says, and he tightens his arms around Sehun, breathing him in. “We’ve already won.”

**Author's Note:**

> why did this become a monster,,,, who knows. who is to say. still, i hope you enjoyed! thank you for reading ;~;


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